AN: Thank you so much for all the reviews! It really does make my day to hear from you all. :-)

He was on top of her in her own bed, pinning her arms to her sides as that cold smile rested on his face. She tried to scream, but her voice would not come, and her ineffective thrashing only made his smile wider. "You missed me today, didn't you, Cora?" he whispered in her ear, and she squirmed, trying to pull her head away from him. Why couldn't she scream?

He smiled again, his eyes boring into her as he forced her legs apart. "No!" The word finally tore from her throat, and he laughed in reply.

"It's just the two of us here, your ladyship," he said, the last two words dripping with scorn.

"No, please!" she screamed again. "NO!"

"Cora! CORA!" Robert's voice. Suddenly Bricker was gone, and she was wrapped in a tangle of twisted bedsheets, her legs still kicking an imaginary threat, her husband standing in the doorway. She sat up, trying to wake herself as Robert took a seat on the bed, and she cried out at the pain in her side at the quick movement.

"Good God, are you all right?"

"I had a nightmare," she said, trying to wipe the tears from her cheeks discreetly. "But I'm all right." I'm all right, she repeated to herself, trying to slow her pounding heart. She took a deep breath in an effort to steady her breathing and then gasped at the pain in her rib. No deep breaths. She'd learned that during the day.

"Cora, do you have a fever?" He reached over to a lay a hand to her forehead. "You don't feel unusually warm…"

She wanted that hand on her forehead, calming her, soothing her, more than anything else in the world. But she also wanted him away from here before he saw the truth in her eyes, before the smell of Bricker that seemed to still hang in the heavy night air tainted him, too. So she pulled quickly away, hissing in pain as she turned her neck.

"Darling, what's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," she said, clenching her teeth. "I just don't feel very well. But I'll be all right. Please—I just need to sleep."

"Do you think you can fall asleep again?" he asked, and the gentleness in his voice hurt her heart. "Are you frightened?"

Was she frightened? She almost laughed. Yes, she was frightened, and not by whatever silly dream he imagined she'd had. She had been frightened by every noise, every glance, every movement in the corner of her eye all day. She was frightened every time she closed her eyes to sleep and every time she opened them.

"I'm fine," she said in a voice that was so emotionless she was not sure it was hers. "And yes, I can sleep." The latest of the lies she'd told him today. It had not been an easy night so far, as her side and her neck had kept her up for hours and she'd searched in vain for a position that did not aggravate her aches and pains. And now that Bricker had invaded her dreams, she was not sure she ever wanted to sleep again.

"All right." He laid a hand on her knee, and she tensed at the touch. "Call me if you need anything."

After he left, she considered what his arrival had meant: he had heard her screams. He had heard her screams. She had forced herself to watch Bricker's car depart early that morning, needing to know that he was gone from the Abbey, and yet she had not felt safe alone in her room, terrified that she would wake, as she had in her dream, to find him on top of her again.

But Robert was next door. Robert, her protector, whose strength she could still feel in his arms after all these years. There was only one wall between them, and he could hear her if she screamed, and he would come instantly. He was, she realized as she eased herself back down, only a few feet away.

"How are you feeling?" Robert joined her the next morning just as Baxter entered with her breakfast tray.

Awkwardly, she turned at the waist to look at him. Why could he not just stand at the foot of the bed?

"I'm all right." She could not keep up a pretense of illness forever, especially not when it only drew his attention more.

"My lady," Baxter murmured softly, attempting to place the tray.

Cora straightened so that it could balance properly over her lap. "Thank you." She met Baxter's eyes, eyes that were full of their own questions, and tried to give her a thin smile. Her maid pressed a hand gently against the side of the tray, as though to offer what reassurance she could, before turning to leave.

Stiffly and slowly, she forced herself to turn her head to look at Robert.

"Are you sure? You seemed rather ill last night."

"I'm not sure what it was. But I feel quite well this morning." She hoped there was a final sound to her voice.

"If you're sure…"

"I am."

He nodded and paused, and she could not help but use the silence as a brief rest for her neck muscles, turning her head straight again.

"I also came up to tell you…" She forced herself to turn back to him. "…Edith's about to receive some very bad news. Her editor's on his way to see her this afternoon. I'm afraid it's what we've been waiting for."

She closed her eyes, feeling her daughter's heartbreak in addition to her own. "However much she knew it was coming, it won't make it any easier."

"No." He studied her, and his gaze made her want to crawl under the covers. "Is there something wrong with your neck?"

"What?" The last thing she'd expected to hear.

"Your neck. You're having trouble moving it."

At something in his voice, she had a sudden urge to collapse in tears in his arms. But no. If she confessed, she doubted she'd ever be in his arms again. "I think I must have slept wrong."